


Of Fog And Dilemma

by Gemini_Baby



Series: Bruce & Dick Week 2021 [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Batman, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Stabbing, kind of, non-graphic injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemini_Baby/pseuds/Gemini_Baby
Summary: The bird doing its little hops and jumps on the windowsill chirped. Dick smiled. At least someone could take up the chirping for today.It was nice and almost enough that the tense silence was not tense anymore. Almost.“You worried me there”, Bruce said.That was when the snap happened.It continued to be a pattern in Dick’s life.Noise-Silence-Snap-Silence-Thrumming-Overload of Noise.“Sorry.”“For what?” Bruce asked. Since his back was leaning towards his dad’s chest and he couldn’t look at his face, he didn’t know what expression he was wearing. He couldn’t place the tone in the voice either.Wasn’t that the question though?“For what?”
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Bruce & Dick Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127189
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52
Collections: BruDick Week 2021





	Of Fog And Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuroraKant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/gifts).



> Written for Day 1's prompt, "You're the best thing that happened to me."
> 
> Thank you Bob (Did_you_see_the_light_in_my_heart) for the beta-help and polishing this <3
> 
> I hope you like it Aurora <3  
> (I know you asked for stabbing but 😔)

  
  


The sun was rising. He was to leave for the cave soon. His insides twisting while the pink, purple and yellow colours merged.

The sun was rising and so were the questions and thoughts.

He was Robin. Batman’s partner.

Maybe he needed to be more than that. 

But what did Batman think of  _ him _ as?

Overlooking at the ground from the rooftop ledge of the manor was bleak. There was nothing to watch. Gargoyles were not really his spots to hunch over and brood.

  
  


He had been distracted by his thoughts these days.

There were too many questions in his mind. And it was difficult for him to determine where he would find his answers from.

  
  


Dick’s thoughts that would leave him thinking for hours didn’t come up on rooftops, hunched over a gargoyle. They didn’t come when he would flip to the next rooftop or when he would be on stake-outs.

No. They came at the most normal times. Seemingly normal times. Places he could easily blend into like he belonged there but the situations usually would paint him as the odd one out instead, making him stand out.

It was an enigma.

Everything and everyone felt comfortable around Dick Grayson.

Dick, himself, felt out of his skin, more often than not. 

The thoughts that would leave him brooding would come at  _ ice-cream shops,  _ where there would be a couple celebrating their kid’s birthday. Where a father would treat his seven year old to an ice cream flavour of his choosing because the man got paid that week.

Those thoughts came at hair care products’ shops. Those shops where there would be every product one could name or even the ones people had a hard time pronouncing the names of. But the same shops would never have the oil that his mother used to gently rub on in his hair, combing it with a small-tooth comb and styling it to her liking. Sleeps after that were always the best.

Those thoughts came at the amusement park; the crowd and the cheer would always feel like that of the circus but it was never quite the same. It never would. Because it wasn’t home.

  
  
  
  


School continued.

This week, their teacher had assigned essays to them. The topics which left everyone confused.

But he had to do his homework nonetheless.

The first topic listed on the sheet, provided to them all by their teacher, glared at him and Dick had never put off the homework sheet to deal with it later so fast.

  
  


“How would you define good and bad things? What’s the best thing or the worst that happened to you? What are the best and worst things that  _ could have  _ happened to you?”

  
  


Only fools spill their whole life stories to strangers.

But look where never sharing lead Bruce.

That wasn’t right.

He could admit to himself.

He could get two papers. Write whatever he felt in that one and then burn it later. He could submit the other one just briefly touching on the topic, writing more fiction than reality.

  
  
  


Turned out that writing the embellished story of his life with glittered lies, wrapped with a bow of fiction was harder than he had thought.

But if he could ‘smile’ at the camera when the people behind the camera did their best to make him cry, he could also deceive this paper.

He submitted that one.

  
  


The difficult one was the real one; on his study table beside his bed. 

It wasn’t that he never got around to it. The problem was the opposite.

He sat to do it  _ too many times _ .

And every time he left his chair and desk with more questions than answers.

It was the weekend.

Maybe he could just finish this self-assigned task now. Get done with it and no longer let it eat at him.

The paper was still there.

Blank in terms of writing. It was marred with inked smudges and tear drops. 

He would get done with this too. He would burn it just like the too many questions that were burning him from inside.

  
  


_ “How would you define good and bad things? What’s the best thing or the worst that has happened to you? What are the best and worst things that could have happened to you?” _

  
  
  


He didn’t have to think much about one of the answers. The poster on the wall of his room to his left and the picture on the bedside table to his right were answers enough.

The grin and smiles of his family watching and him stuck here not being able to see them. He wasn’t able to see them before they were lowered to the ground, either.

The worst thing was: he walked on the ground which now traps his family.

So anything after that couldn’t be the best thing, could it?

The worst thing was: he was sent to juvie for the crime of not being from the city. Of not falling when his parents had flown for their last time.

The best thing: ?

The paper was deposited back on its place; not really touched except there were one or two ink smudges more which had not been there before.

  
  
  
  


Some things don’t go together. They don’t mix.

Some things don’t have anything in common. Yet they complement the other so well. The other piece of the puzzle; fitting well and making a complete,  _ beautiful  _ picture.

Some things have everything in common. But they repel each other like no other.

Same goes with people.

Dick often wondered in which category he and Bruce fell into. Which category was what defined Batman and Robin.

What described them?

What defined them, their dynamic, their relationship.

They both had some things in common and yet they couldn’t be more different from each other.

Day and Night — complementary, opposites, both important in their own way. But one can’t be there when the other is.

He wondered if that was why Bruce was always looming? There but not.

Didn’t the book Dick had been reading last week said, “No matter how dark the night is, there’s always a dawn” and “Little rays of sunshine are enough to stop the dark from being The Dark.”?

Did it mean that the day was the end of the night? Something that finishes it off?

Was that why Bruce hovered at times? Too caught up in whether his so- whether Dick would...do what? Replace him? Finish him?

Dick had no idea. He knew he didn’t want to replace his...guardian. The finishing one was something he didn’t even want to think about.

He knew he didn’t want to be in Bruce’s shadow any longer.

But was that the problem?

If he was the one dubbed as light while Bruce was the shadow, did it all boil down to this?

Light can shine. But shadow  _ requires _ light.

Was he giving Batman a crisis?

Or the dilemma; that taking Dick in would have been the worst thing Bruce had done  _ for himself?  _

  
  
  
  
  


The fog was not good for flying and Dick loved to fly. He wanted to soar high. 

  
  


There was a serial attacker on the loose. Batman and Robin had to apprehend him since GCPD was already trying their best but they did need the help too.

The attacker was good. At evading them, that was.

The night was silent. The scenery; eerie. There was no sound of anyone around whatsoever but Robin could hear the impending yells and shouts.

Batman was an alley away, rescuing some of the hostages from the kidnapping they had been after, the previous day.

Maybe he wasn’t paying much attention or maybe he  _ was _ . Too focused on what was in front of him and behind him that he missed what lunged at him from his sides.

Searing pain shot through him. His nerves alight with agony.

The stab was not from a mere blade. The blade had been dipped into something.

Robin heard screaming and cries of pain. It took a long time to register those had been coming from him.

The attacker was nearby. They had struck. But if Robin knew something about these criminals, it was that they never bothered to run away after attacking. Instead, they would  _ always _ stick around to see their victory. Savour the delight and would later pay the cost. But they never learned.

Robin threw a birdarang at the direction.

The mark hit.

He didn’t care. Or was not able to. He just needed his dad. Wanted his dad to tell him it was going to be okay. 

_ It hurt. _

Robin stumbled. It went black faster than he had anticipated.

  
  


Even before opening his eyes, he felt he had been moved to a room. The wind coming from the right window instead of the left window in his room. The mattress felt different but not unfamiliar. The blankets, not his.

It was clear that it was not his room.

He opened his eyes. The first sight to greet him was the grey coloured wall of Bruce’s room. “Should paint it blue or yellow instead” slipped from his mouth before he realized.

He felt movement beside him.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked, brushing his hair away from his forehead. The other hand went to his forehead, checking for fever. 

Dick leaned into the touch.

Bruce didn’t say anything. And that was the most unnerving part. The man being silent.

Bruce just wrapped an arm around Dick’s shoulders and pulled him a bit closer to his own chest.

It was silent for a few minutes.

Long, uncomfortable seconds.

The bird doing its little hops and jumps on the windowsill chirped. Dick smiled. At least someone could take up the chirping for today.

It was nice and almost enough that the tense silence was not tense anymore. Almost. 

“You worried me there”, Bruce said.

That was when the snap happened.

It continued to be a pattern in Dick’s life.

Noise-Silence-Snap-Silence-Thrumming-Overload of Noise.

“Sorry.”

“For what?” Bruce asked. Since his back was leaning towards his dad’s chest and he couldn’t look at his face, he didn’t know what expression he was wearing. He couldn’t place the tone in the voice either.

Wasn’t that the question though?  _ “For what?” _

_ For getting injured when he could have done better. _

_ For having doubts and fog when a clear head was expected of him. _

_ For not knowing what to write on that damn paper. _

“To be a let down”, he settled on answering.

“Dick - ”

“Don’t you regret it?” he asked as he leaned back further. Bruce’s chin came on top of his head; tucking his head under Bruce’s chin, and arms wrapped around him, mindful of the injuries.

“I will paint it yellow when you heal. We can do it together.”

Was Bruce intentionally ignoring the question or was it his attempt at bonding and reassurance?

“We can”, Dick replied as the chin moved, indicating that his guardian was nodding. There was a tickle in his hair and he giggled.

He couldn’t see it but he could feel the smile on Bruce’s face as he tried to hide it in Dick’s hair.

“Don’t you regret it?” Dick asked again. There was no question what “it” in the question was; evident by the shift in the air, stiff silence and tense postures.

Then it all bled out as the chin in his hair moved; tickling it and then he was being rocked back and forth lightly.

“Why would I regret it?”

“You tell me.”

“I regret that I don’t regret.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re the best thing that happened to me.” 

“Why would you say something neither of us believes in?”

He could feel Bruce blinking. “I know I messed up. Sometimes I think that maybe...maybe I shouldn’t have taken you in.”

All Dick heard was a slight ringing in his ears. The paint on the wall in front of him -- the grey merging into an uglier one and the other layer merging into a lighter one.

Maybe that was just his eyes and mind playing tricks but it was different. It didn’t feel like the times his heart would lie to him.

“But I don’t have any regrets for taking you in. At least on my side.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that”, he said as he carded fingers through Dick’s hair, “You might have been the best thing to happen to me, I was the worst thing to happen to you.”

“That’s bul-”

“You asked me.”

“Yes.”

“Then let me answer”, he said, “Meeting you...life after you might have helped me walk on a better path; stairs towards happiness.”

“You think the opposite happened to me.”

“I dragged you down in a dark pit; full of violence and doom. It is almost impossible to get out.”

“You think I am stuck somewhere I can’t return from. The irony!”

“Bruce Wayne lost everything when he was eight years old. But Bruce Wayne found  _ everything _ in a nine year old boy. Dick Grayson lost everything when he was nine. And he kept losing parts of himself even after that, again and again.”

“You don’t get us, do you? Or you have somehow let other people’s perceptions get to your head.”

“Dick-”

“Don’t. Just don’t”, Dick said. Not able to hide the hurt from his voice, “You know what is giving me pain right now? It isn’t the stab wound. Not as much.”

The rocking paused.

“It’s you having us  _ all wrong.” _

“Oh?”

“You were also a good thing to happen to me.”

“Least worst options, usually, are not  _ actually  _ good, Chum.”

“Least worst option…”, he repeated. The bird on the windowsill chirped, agreeing with the sentiment. “If the least worst option is what restores a child’s faith in humanity, I would take it over other options any day.”

Dick yawned. As much as he needed that, this was also exhausting. He rubbed his eyes.

The chin was on his shoulder now. “You should eat something.”

“Not hungry.” He did not want to eat anything nor did he want Alfred fussing over him.

Tired, he rubbed at his eyes. He wanted to sleep.

“Chips and juice?” Bruce asked, surprising him.

It was a trap. Right? “You would let me have chips and juice?”

“I am  _ the one _ who lets you have chips and juice.”

Which was true. Dick snickered. Not that it was easy. His side screamed at him.

Hands rubbed small circles at his back.

The warmth at his back disappeared. Only to return back in a few minutes.

He got his chips and juice that were brought. Bruce did try to steal some of his chips and denied even after being caught. He kept stealing Dick’s chips though.

Maybe the fog could dissipate little by little.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, bookmarks and user subscriptions are always welcome and appreciated <3


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